The Lion King: His Unrestful Soul
by TLKFan
Summary: The Lion King's unnamed son is born frightfully, mysteriously ill. What will Simba and Nala have to do to save Kopa, the new sun and the next Lion King?
1. Prologue

TLK: His Unrestful Soul

Prologue

—

His firstborn son, the light of the land and the future Lion King. The sight of him ought to have filled Simba with joy, but instead, he only felt a dull gnawing sort of sadness.

After all, the child was frail, too weak to even paw at the air as a healthier baby would have. At birth he was so lifeless that they had thought him stillborn; it was only Rafiki's skilled touch that had coaxed motion out of him in the first place. But even now, one of those dismal, too-soft mewls was enough to tell Simba what he had long suspected.

The boy wasn't long for the world. He had clung to life for these past two weeks, never getting better. He had never quite died, but if he hadn't gotten better by now, then his fate was as good as sealed.

Simba wanted to cry. But the last tears had been wrung from his eyes days past. Since then, his son had worsened, and he had spent his hours half asleep, half awake, too tired to do his duty as king but too worried to rest. Even the view of his dominion in the first light of the rising sun didn't inspire him. The rolling grass fields, the sleepy shaded forests, even the glimmering reflection of the sun off of distant pools of water... none of it brought light or hope to his eyes. How could it, when even Rafiki's round-the-clock efforts hadn't saved his son?

The doctor was with him now, in the warmest, most protected corner of Pride Rock. But after two weeks of diminishing hope, Simba couldn't convince himself that he could save the child. He might prolong the inevitable, but that was all.

Simba felt the softness of his wife's head against his shoulder, but he couldn't bring himself to try to comfort her. Not when anything he said would, undoubtedly, ring false. But that hurt, that he couldn't even comfort his wife. And somehow Nala still had tears left to cry. She had since she had delivered him, that beautiful little baby boy who hadn't been able to breathe until Rafiki took him from her and blew life into him.

But why, he found himself thinking. They had done everything right. Nala had maintained a very careful diet for months before her pregnancy, and when she had become pregnant, Simba had refused to let her hunt, no matter how much she said she was alright and that she didn't need to be mollycoddled, thank you very much.

That brief moment of happiness almost made Simba smile. Almost. But then something occurred to him and his face grew pensive.

"When I was younger," he said, "my father once told me that why my uncle was born, he was sick. No one thought he would last for long, so they didn't name him. Not until he was a few months old, but by then, it was too late. You know how he turned out."

He felt Nala look up at him, but he didn't return her gaze. His eyes darted back and forth over the slate rock in front of him, as if searching them for an explanation.

"They say that there's magic in naming your child. Powerful magic," Simba said. "My grandparents didn't want to waste it on Scar, because they thought he was doomed. But when he survived, it was their failure to name him that made him who he was. After all, when our souls enter our bodies, they're panicking. Sometimes so much that our bodies become sick. When that happens, we can die, but if our parents name us-quickly-we can live. And shine."

"Do you mean," Nala said, "that since we didn't name him right away... that he's doomed? And that it's our fault?" Her voice broke, and she started to cry again. But Simba faced her and shook his head. And for the first time in a fortnight, there was light in his eyes, even as his son squealed in the recesses of Pride Rock.

"No, he's not doomed," Simba said. "It's late, but if we act quickly... he might have a chance." He spent a moment wiping the exhaustion from his eyes, and then, all at once, he leaped down to a lower section of Pride Rock and started to lope off into the rising sun.

"I'm going on a pilgrimage," he called, gathering speed. "I don't know where or for how long. But when I return, he'll be well. More than well!"

By then, the Lion King was dozens of yards away, and getting farther with every passing second. In a way, it looked like he was becoming one with the sun. His tan body and red mane seemed to catch fire as he ran faster, and for a moment, the sight was so compelling that Nala froze.

Then she dashed to the very edge of Pride Rock and called out to him. "But Simba," she said, "don't we have to name him first?"

The Lion King just laughed. "'We'? I'll leave naming him to his mother!"

For a moment, Nala watched her husband continue to run off into the sunswept distances, and perhaps the sun itself. And then, so silently that she herself didn't hear it, she whispered the name of her son.

"Kopa."

And, all at once, the agonized shrieking from the depths of Pride Rock softened, and then eased... and then, at last, they stopped. The sun continued to rise, and with it rose Kopa, the new sun, the next Lion King.


	2. One

TLK: His Unrestful Soul

One

—

He was too weak and lithe to lift his own head or even open his own eyes. Without his mother he was helpless, but he rarely left her side. Even when he did, it was to be under the protection of his grandmother, or the shaman that had saved him from certain death a dozen times over, or one of the dozens of other lions who would die to protect him.

And so he slept for at least twenty hours out of the day. He woke to feed and then he slept again and for the better part of a fortnight, that was all he did. In this manner, the cub started to gain weight, and the gaunt chalky fur on his body started to cling to him once again. His fur he had inherited from his father, and already a few flaming strands of hair indicated where his mane would someday grown. In all other aspects he was similar to his mother, from the shape of his face, to the beginnings of the sleek elegant grace she displayed with every motion.

The sickness he had been afflicted with at birth, whatever it was, was gone, chased away by the power of his naming and his father's pilgrimage. And so, in time, Kopa grew to be very nearly a chubby healthy little lion cub. Nothing less was expected of the future king.

—

The first thing he saw in his life was his mother. It happened unexpectedly and all at once, after he was finished feeding. When Nala adjusted the position of her body and waited for him to sleep again, he sniffed at the air, faced her, and then opened his eyes. He was the image of his father, even at his age, and his grandfather before his father. And when Nala saw that, she couldn't keep the happy tears from her eyes.

But he quickly became troublesome, the future Lion King. His eyes open and his health regained, it was all his mother could do to keep him close. The slightest indication of exhaustion or a lack of attention and he left her side to go scamper off into the depths of Pride Rock, or, worse, to the open stone peak outside.

More than once she had to pounce on him and carry him back to where he belonged by the scruff of his neck. It wearied her, but at the same time, it gave her pride. To show that sort of bravery at that age... he really was his father's son.

—

Until dawn, he was his mother's son, and until his father returned, she was the only parent he had. This much Kopa gleaned from the soft words she occasionally purred to him, though he still couldn't articulate words of his own. And this he took to mean that, in the shadowy hours before dawn, he was free.

And he had come to recognize those hours that were too early to be called day but too late to be called night. There was something in the air in those hours, a sort of dry cold dustiness that made the young prince hide his nose under his paws to avoid sneezing. Then he stood up and carefully slipped away from his mother. He missed the warmth of her body, but-for just a few minutes-he could be alone. And he could explore.

He began by patrolling the perimeters of the cave within Pride Rock. No dimension or demarcation missed his inspection, and although the big dark open outside still scared he, he patrolled that, too, and hazarded a glance outside. He recognized the stone outcropping for what it was, but could make no sense of the twinkling starlit sky and the terrain beyond. He understood that there was a world outside of the cave, and that that world was big, but... no world could be that big. No Lion King, not even one who was spoken of as reverently as his father was, could be King of such an expanse.

His patrol finished, Kopa made to return to his mother. Dawn would come soon; then he might mewl and prod at her until she relented and fed him again. But a flicker of movement in the shadows caught his eye.

At first he thought it was someone's tail, and so he stifled the instinct to duck low, crawl forward, and then, at just the right moment, pounce. He'd already earned a clout on the head for that once, before his victim realized who he was.

But when Kopa looked closer, he could see no tails twitching. The only one in that corner of the cave was a mother and the only other child in the pride, a cub barely a few months older than him, and his mother, and both of them slept soundly and still. It was likely nothing, nothing more than a trick of the light and and odd shadow, but already Kopa grasped that he was the future Lion King. It was his responsibility and his duty to investigate.

Besides, it would be fun.

Noiselessly, and with all the grace of his mother, Kopa crouched and silently began to creep forward. He often had to stop and plan his way through the tangle of sleeping bodies in the cave, but, in time, it was worth it. He achieved an overlook of the cub in question, and his mother. And then he watched and he waited.

And nothing happened.

His duty done and his mind calmed, Kopa began to stand. Dawn really was soon, and that meant that his mother would awake. If she awoke without him at her side, she might clout him again, as she had taken to doing when he misbehaved too much-

And that was when it appeared.

What was it? A gaunt shadow? A moving cluster of dust? Whatever it was, Kopa both saw it and saw through it, and it was too hazy and ethereal to define anyway. But whatever it was, it hissed and slithered through the air like a waft of wind through a hollow in the rocks.

And it was heading right for the cub.

Kopa wanted to squeal, or mewl, or something, but terror silenced him. And so he watched as that phantom shadow descended upon the other cub with a flash of transparent teeth-and then vanished.

The malicious presence in the air was gone. And so, a few silent moments later, Kopa stood.

Everything was alright, as far as he could see. Neither the cub nor the mother were harmed, and the rest of the lions were still breathing softly and sleeping-and then he felt a ray of warmth on his backside. The sun was rising and his mother was stirring, and so, all thoughts of the aberration forgotten, Kopa loped back to her and dove into position and acted as if he too was just waking up.

She smiled at him as she always did. He batted at her whiskers as he always did. And then he darted to the safety of her side as a shriek pierced the early dawn serenity of Pride Rock.

The cub had gone to sleep so full of life and light the night before. But he hadn't woken up. And he would never wake up, ever, ever again.


	3. Two

TLK: His Unrestful Soul

Two

—

In the days that followed, Kopa slept less and less, and when he did, it was invariably during daylight hours. The aberration, whatever it was, didn't seem to exist in the light of the sun. Only in the dominion of darkness did it come into being.

And it was there. Some nights Kopa didn't see it, other nights, he would watch it maraud alone about the recesses of Pride Rock, hissing wordless agony as if it was nothing more than a gust of wind. It never saw Kopa, nor did it harm anyone else, and that was the worst part of it.

Initially Kopa tried to wake his mother or one of the other lionesses to attack the threat. But whenever they roused, the phantom vanished and Kopa was clouted on the head and carried back to his mother by the scruff of his neck.

The demon, it seemed, was his to fight alone. And so, late one night, Kopa steeled his heart and prepared for battle.

His claws were sharp; they had tasted nothing yet but the grit of the stone underfoot, and this he had used to hone them until he could use them to shave if he wanted to. He was fast and strong for his age, and yet his mother could still pounce on him before he took the first step into the great wide openness outside of Pride Rock.

No matter. He was the Lion King and it was his job to protect his pride. And if that meant he fought alone in a diminished physical state, so be it.

There, in the black depths of the cave: a flicker of motion. As silent and fluid as the air itself, Kopa moved in.

It lingered near a lioness pressed up against a wall, pacing this way and that. It was as shapeless and blurry as smoke, but then, when Kopa got closer and ducked behind another lioness, he _heard a voice_.

"Simba... Simba... false king, usurper, demo... Simba... murderer. Murderer. _Murderer._"

Kopa felt his breath catch in his throat. What was the spirit talking about? Simba, his father-a murderer? How could that be? And then he realized what it was. This ghost was a liar, or insane, and therefore nothing it said was to be trusted. Nothing it said made sense.

He peered out at the roving demon. It had vanished, but footprints in the dust near the edge of the cave led to another section. And, as Kopa watched, more footprints appeared, one by one.

Hugging the wall and maintaining a low profile, the prince moved forward. He had to maintain the element of surprise, but he needed to get close to his enemy to attack. But every time he got to within pouncing range of the demon, it screamed a thin high pitched airy scream and scampered off. This process repeated itself thrice before Kopa took cover again.

He was panting shallowly and sweating a cold sweat. What was this thing? It clearly had a mind and an intent, but it seemed to be too sickly and weak to notice him. And his mere presence... somehow, just being close to the demon seemed to hurt it.

Kopa got eyes on his adversary again. It was vaguely lion-like, now, though far darker and skinnier than any lion Kopa had ever seen. It shivered, sending dust rising for several meters around it, and then fell to the ground, sobbing and swearing.

"Essence of Simba, essence of murder... where are you, you snake? Come to me and let me end you. I'm almost strong enough again. Almost strong enough."

And then, the phantom turned and looked directly at where Kopa was hiding. Kopa froze-but he went unseen. The aberration turned away and carried on stumbling across the rock, wandering, searching for _him_.

But for a moment, Kopa didn't follow. When the demon had faced him, he had seen something impossible, something abominable.

He saw the face of his father.

With his own eyes, Kopa had never seen Simba. But somehow the knowledge of what his father looked like was in his mind, in his very blood. And so was the knowledge of what his grandfather had looked like, and his great-grandfather before him.

And this creature very nearly had the face of his father. It was skinnier and darker and filled with far too many cruel hooked fangs, but the resemblances were undeniable.

But what was it? A demon? A phantom? The unrestful soul of a long-lost twin brother? Kopa didn't know, but when he saw the abomination rake its claws across the haunch of a lioness and leave ragged bleeding trails behind, he knew that whatever it was, it had to die.

Neither sound nor sight betrayed his intent. Before the demon could sense him coming, Kopa pounced on it and clamped his jaws around its neck.

It was like biting into cold air itself. Fluid raced through his teeth as the demon screamed that thin tearing scream of its and struggled to shake Kopa off. But the prince of the lions held on with his claws as well as his jaws until the demon turned its shoulder and charged into a wall.

Dazed, Kopa struggled to his feet. He tasted blood but his vision cleared after a moment, and he watched as the demon seethed and circled him, lashing out with claws made of smoke and cold.

He couldn't get too close, not without hurting himself. But Kopa saw that his assault had barely harmed the ghost; its mane was too thick to bite through. When he realized that, and he realized how much bigger than him the demon was, he took a step back and tried to shy away from those piercing pale eyes.

And then it came for him, striking him so hard that he was lifted from his feet.

Kopa stood back up again on the far end of the cave, but he was panting and chilled and terrified. And the demon was still coming for him, holding its injured paw off the ground. Even touching Kopa hurt it, but it would take that hurt, it seemed, as long as Kopa was hurt more.

His mother slept peacefully just next to him. Kopa looked at her, then his enemy, and then he realized... if he failed, the demon would continue to claw lionesses and murder unborn cubs until the end of time. Only he could see it. And so only he could kill it. And if that cost him his life... that was alright.

Standing strong, Kopa bared his teeth and roared as loud as he could.

That woke his mother. And when she woke, the demon vanished into nothingness.

It was almost dawn. Already stray rays of reflected sunlight entered Pride Rock, one of them illuminated the smile on her face.

"My son," she said. "You're as brave as your father, Kopa." She glanced at the great opening, just some yards away, and then shut her eyes again.

"Be brave, Kopa, and be careful... and explore your home. I'll join you as soon as the sun rises."

With that, she went back to sleep, and the demon reappeared.

He stared at it. It stared back at him. Its eyes flashed-and then it spoke a vicious hissing voice that only he heard.

"Let's settle this, future Lion King, once and for all." It vanished into dust, and then manifested again, not an inch from Kopa's face. And though it seethed in pain, it didn't break eye contact with the prince.

"You. Me. Outside. Alone. If you defeat me, I swear on my brother's grave that I'll leave your stolen pride alone." It almost smiled. "But if I defeat you... the only one who dies is you."

Then it stood in the great doorway that led to the outside world, waiting for Kopa's response. And Kopa gave it, by dashing out to greet his duty, and to meet his fate.


	4. End

TLK: His Unrestful Soul

End

—

His enemy was faster, stronger, and nearly invisible, and seemed to have experience in combat. Kopa had none of these things, but he had the ability to render terrible pain to the ghost just by being close to it.

And so his strategy was to outmaneuver the enemy. Whenever the wind whispered toward him, he ducked and rolled and then got to his feet at his enemy's back. He didn't attack, not yet; his drive was to pain and weaken his enemy until he couldn't fight anymore.

And it was working. The dark shadow could no longer disappear and reappear as quickly as it once had, and, sensing his advantage, Kopa focused his attack. He began to claw at his enemy, drawing bleeding lines of smoke through the shadow until it hissed in pain and started to swear.

The sun was rising, and Kopa was the sun. He stood in its light at the edge of Pride Rock, forcing his enemy right to the very precipice; he was light and the enemy was darkness, and now that he stood and marched forward, darkness could do nothing more than cower and shrink and hide away. And soon, it would die out completely.

Kopa got to within a yard of that hissing, shrieking dark shadow, that undefinable enemy with the face of his family. He jumped forward and struck out-

And the shadow vanished, torn to clouds of dust that the wind scattered into oblivion.

Victory was his. And, in the light of the dawning sun, in the light of his rise as the future Lion King, Kopa tilted his head back and roared his pride into the sky.

—

It was behind him now. But he'd never forget the lessons he'd learned during that pilgrimage, that undefinable time period after he had left his home for the second time in his life.

Now that Simba thought of it, he'd never before been alone in his life. Growing up, his parents and friends were never far, and when they couldn't keep an eye on him, Zazu was always circling somewhere overhead. His pilgrimage was the first time in his life that he'd been really alone for very long. And at first it had been hard, to have only his own thoughts for company. Worse was that there wasn't much to do in that distant land. There were no views, few features in the landscape; it was all chilly dark monotony. Yet he didn't need to plan out his hunts. There were few apex predators about other than him, so when he needed food, he ate. And when he didn't, he sat by himself with his thoughts.

And now he was returning.

Pride Rock was in sight now, the proud upraised stone home of his family. The sun crossed the horizon behind him, illuminating the landscape, and casting light on a lone figure atop the peak.

Who was it? All alone, so early in the morning... who could it be?

And then the Lion King recognized that posture, the beginnings of red hair that would soon coalesce into a thick protective mane. Kopa, the prince, the future Lion King: his son. He seemed to greet his father with a roar, and, with tears in his eyes, Simba opened his mouth to roar back.

That was when he saw his son, his little boy, his innocent child who he'd never met, jump forward-teeter for a moment-and then plunge off the edge of Pride Rock.

Ice took Simba's veins. No, that wasn't true, what he'd seen was a lie, it couldn't be, it was a mistake! He ran so fast that it hurt, staring at the bare ground in front of Pride Rock where his son lay.

His eyes were still open. He was still breathing, though blood and froth spilled from his open mouth. And when his father dove to his side, he blinked, confused, until he seemed to recognize him.

"Kopa," Simba heard himself say. "My son... don't worry. It'll be alright. I'll call Rafiki-"

But the prince smiled and shook his head. He reached out and set a paw on his father's, the butter soft touch of a child. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but only blood and foam came forth. Shivering, grimacing, Kopa looked up at his father, even as shrieked mirth pierced the sky.

"It wasn't that you didn't name him, Simba," a voice said, a demonic voice from half a lifetime ago. "It was me! It was me all along! I tried to kill him, but your pilgrimage saved him... I thought it was all over, but he challenged me! He challenged me, and we fought, and he _lost_!

Leaning over the edge of Pride Rock, Scar laughed at the Lion King and the Lion King who might have been. He shimmered in the sunlight, half transparent and half dust, and when Kopa saw who he really was, he whimpered and tried to crawl behind his father. But his body was broken, and the slightest motion made him mewl in pain.

Redness clouded Simba's vision. He focused it onto Scar and stepped between him and his son, and with every ounce of hatred and pain he could muster, he roared.

And, still laughing, Scar's soul came apart into wisps of smoke that the wind carried off and away.

Hyperventilating, his teeth bared in a horrible snarl, Simba watched to make sure that every last speck of the aberration was lost. The voices of the pride were rousing, leaving the rock to see what had happened, but Simba didn't look to them. He looked to his son.

So small. So precious. The image of him and his father before him, and so pure and brave that he had tried alone to fight off the spirit of his uncle. And now he lay there: bloodied, and broken, and dead.

Simba reached toward him. But he didn't touch him. He didn't try to rouse him, as he had half a lifetime ago. He didn't know what to do. He paced around Kopa, and spoke to him, and begged him to move, with tears streaming down his face the whole while. He didn't know what to think, how to react, and when he heard his wife scream, he too screamed, for so long and so loud that his vocal cords broke.

Kopa. Prince. Future king. Boy. Child. Precious. Innocent. Dead: killed by his great uncle's unrestful soul...


End file.
